


Selectively So

by the_authors_exploits



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: or so Ive been told, out of character Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_authors_exploits/pseuds/the_authors_exploits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is selective with his levels of friendliness, specifically touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selectively So

**Author's Note:**

> Out of character, I am aware
> 
>  
> 
> Can be found on my side blog on tumblr: senpaidono

Scott has always thought Stiles was just a tactile person. He had this habit of grabbing Scott’s arm, any part of his body really, throwing an arm around Scott’s shoulders. Stiles would take up all the space on Scott’s bed when they play video games, thus cover half of Scott’s body with his own. And Scott had just accepted that his friend was a tactile person. Really, after what, thirteen years they had gotten used to each other’s presence and quirks. And sure maybe Stiles has never been as touchy with his dad or Scott’s mom as he is with Scott, but that was little things that hadn’t mattered at the time.

After Scott had been bit and the pack had formed, things had changed. Their friendship didn’t just consist of ScottandStiles, now it was Scott and Stiles and everybody else. That was okay, though, they didn’t feel so invisible anymore and that was a good thing. They enjoyed larger, more intense multiplayer games with the guys, and dates with the girls, and Scott got to run with others like him; other werewolves that is.

Today, like every other school day, the pack had gathered at a single table for lunch. Jackson, Boyd, Erica, and Allison squeezed on one side with Stiles, Scott, and Lydia on the opposite side; unlike every other day, Isaac had showed up late causing Stiles to be pressed between Scott and Isaac, whereas normally Stiles would be on the end next to Scott.

Allison and Lydia were enthralled in their conversation about nail polish and going shopping over the weekend, with Erica throwing in a comment here and there. The boys were discussing video games when Scott first noticed it. Stiles kept shifting; not normal, ‘trying to find a comfortable position’ shifting. Not the typical nervous shifting either. Stiles kept moving closer, pressing against Scott’s side, so much so that Scott swore if he shifted one more damn time there would be a leg slung over his lap.

So, of course, Stiles inched closer. Scott whipped his head to the side to glare at the offending person.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?”

Of course, the non-werewolf looked completely baffled as to why his friend sounded so mad. “What?”

“Dude, you’re practically sitting on me and there’s plenty of room next to Isaac. What the hell?”

Stiles shrugged--and shifted closer. Yes, Scott had been correct: there was now a leg on top of his own. He refused to groan. They were beginning to catch the attention of the others at the table. Erica was blatantly watching them and Jackson kept sending them short, frequent glances, while Allison, Lydia, and Boyd seemed to be trying very hard to not watch the scene unfold; Isaac was eating his applesauce, observing the two best friends.

“Ok, seriously, Stiles, I am not your seat cushion.”

Stiles didn’t react.

“Stiles, move!”

“Do I smell or something?” Isaac joined in the conversation.

Now Stiles shifted nervously, moving once more closer to Scott. “No, not at all. Really.”

“Well then…”

“Ok, no, dude, seriously! Get off of me!” Scott tried to shove him away.

“Scott, stop, I don’t--I don’t, stop!”

“Seriously, guys, stop.” Isaac went to stand. “I can move, seriously.”

Stiles stood between the bench and the table, only to plop right on Scott’s lap. “Nahh, man, you’re fine.”

Scott growled. “Seriously, what the hell? There’s space between you and Isaac, what the hell?”

“Yeah,” Jackson piped up. “Stiles, sit down. There’s plenty of space.”

“No no, man, four inches is not space. I need like, space the size of the Grand Canyon between me and someone.”

Erica gave him a deadpan look; “have you even taken a moment to see where you are sitting right now?”

“Yeah, on me!” Scott yelled in Stiles’ ear. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dude, seriously, I can’t even reach my tray! You’re always touchy feely, what the hell?”

“I’m selective.”

“What?”

“Selective. I’m selective of touching. And I don’t like cramped places, seating, whatever. Crowds. I don’t know.”

Scott sighed heavily; he chalked it up to just another one of Stiles’ quirks. So he wrapped his arms around his lap occupant’s waist, rested his chin on the other’s shoulder, and resigned himself to his fate.


End file.
